


Organic

by 17swonwoo



Category: Pentagon (Korea Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, Fluff, Gay, M/M, References to Depression, Sad with a Happy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-14
Updated: 2017-12-14
Packaged: 2019-02-14 14:19:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13009650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/17swonwoo/pseuds/17swonwoo
Summary: Life is hard, and frankly, can be shit. Lee Hwitaek and Kim Hyojong know this well. And sometimes, it all just becomes too much to handle.





	Organic

“I can do this.”

 

Hwitaek sat down on the loveseat, positioned in the center of the living room in his small apartment. He turned on the TV and put on a random channel, where someone was reporting the news. It was gonna snow overnight. Opening his laptop, he stared at the empty Google Doc on his screen.

 

He repeated his mantra quietly to himself. “I can do this.”

 

Hwitaek, to say the least, hated studying advertising. It bored him to death. Personally, he’d much rather be working on a composition project or even trying doing interval work, the way his other music major friends were. However, that wasn’t possible. Strict parents who grew up in a traditional environment wanted a stable job for their son, even if it wasn’t something he enjoyed. Hwi understood the sentiment, but...he wanted to be singing.

 

_ Nevermind that, _ he told himself indignantly.  _ This paper isn’t going to write itself. _

 

His fingers, slowly but surely, began to dance across the keyboard. The words flowed out of him, as did the forced professionalism and faked enthusiasm. He didn’t want to disappoint, so he managed to get by in the miserable field that he studied.

 

Meanwhile, as Hwi typed, another noise besides the quiet murmuring of the TV filled the petite apartment. Piano notes drifted gently from the room where Hwitaek’s boyfriend, Hyojong, was stationed. Pentatonic scales echoed from his studio, and Hwi could tell he was trying to write something. He smiled to himself, finding solace from the monotony of his own tasks in his boyfriend’s undeniable musical talent. 

 

Hyojong wasn’t in college. He had simply decided that it wasn’t something he was interested in. The two boys had gone to university together for a year, but their schedules and attendance differed drastically. Hwi was always on time to class, ready to learn. He asked questions when he wanted further information, and took every opportunity at higher learning he could get. Hyo, however, struggled. He was late often, and sometimes didn’t even show up. When he did show up, he didn’t take notes. Falling asleep was a habit of his.

 

Hwitaek always told him that his mind was too creative for structured learning. Hyo just said that the voices in his head were too loud for him to pay attention. Either way, they both agreed during the second semester of their freshman year that it was time for Hyojong to leave university.

 

Now, Hyojong spent his time composing his own songs and writing raps. He spent most of his time in his music studio (when he wasn’t with Hwi, of course). Soundcloud and YouTube had become his outlets, and he was developing a small following. Proud was an understatement for Hwitaek.

 

However, Hyojong still struggled. Hwi worked hard to be his comfort.

The typing continued. Hwitaek continued to repeat his mantras to himself:  _ This paper isn’t going to write itself. I can do this. This paper isn’t going to write itself. I can do this. This paper- _

 

Suddenly, the peaceful atmosphere was shattered by an assortment of dissonant keys being banged out on the piano and a crash as something heavy hit the floor. Hwitaek immediately got up from his spot on the loveseat, set his laptop down, and rushed to the studio, heart racing. The sight that met his eyes broke Hwi’s heart into a million pieces.

 

The heavy thing that hit the floor was Hyojong himself. He was sitting in the corner, knees pulled up to his chest, eyes squeezed shut. His hands were covering his ears. His breathing was heavy.

 

“Dawnie…” Hwi said, addressing Hyojong with the nickname he had made up for him. “Hyo, honey, what’s wrong?” He approached him carefully, sitting down on the floor next to him and putting a hand cautiously on his knee.

 

“It hurts, Hwi,” Hyojong choked out through gritted teeth, tears leaking from his eyes. “It really, really hurts.”

 

Hwitaek was pretty sure he knew was his boyfriend was referencing when stating this, but he decided to ask anyway. “What hurts, lovebug? Tell me what hurts.”

 

Hyojong breathed heavily and fastly, and Hwitaek nonverbally demonstrated a deep breath, reminding the younger man to breathe similarly. Hyo took a deep breath, and Hwitaek nodded.

 

“My head,” Hyojong whimpered. “My head hurts. The voices, Hwi, they’re too loud. They’re hurting me. I’m becoming self destructive again.”

 

Hwi took Hyojong’s hand in his and squeezed it tightly, another way he attempted to reassure his boyfriend without words. “Can you tell me what they’re saying, baby? Or is it too scary?”

 

Hyojong took another deep breath, this one shaky and unsteady. The fear was visible in his eyes. “I’m all alone,” he said through his tears. “Nothing I do matters. I’m absolutely worthless. Everyone I know is gonna do great things and I’m just gonna be fucking stuck here, doing nothing with my boring, unimportant life. Why am I alive, Hwi?”

 

Hwi’s concerned face softened, his heart hurting with the same pain that was troubling his boy. “Dawnie, you’re alive for a reason. Many reasons, actually. You make me happy. You make music that touches other people. You make our friends laugh. There’s lots in this world you haven’t seen yet or haven’t gotten to experience yet. What did you promise me we were gonna do when I graduate, Hyojongie? Do you remember?”

 

Hyojong wiped his tears on the sleeve of his t-shirt, looking into Hwi’s eyes with his own red-rimmed, glassy ones. “I promised you we’d get married. And we’d go explore the world. We’d go to the places you showed me on the map.”

 

Hwitaek nodded, smiling softly at his boyfriend and rubbing his leg calmly. “That’s right. Do you remember any of the places we said we wanted to go to, sweet pea?”

 

“India. And...and Mexico. America, too. You’ve never been there before,” he stuttered through the messy crying.

 

“You’re right, dear. But you have been there, right?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“You always tell me what it’s like. Will you remind me again?”

 

Hyojong nuzzled closer to Hwi, hiding his head in his boyfriend’s shirt. He began to ramble, trying to keep the tears away by talking. “It’s nice. New York City is my favorite. It has lots of neon lights. And pretty parks, too. And there’s a neighborhood called Queens that has a lot of Koreans. The food is really good. It feels like home away from home.”

 

“That sounds so nice,” Hwi murmured, holding the trembling Hyojong tightly in his arms. “Do you still wanna go there with me, Hyo?”

 

Hyojong managed to nod.

 

“See? This is why you’re alive, honey. To explore. To have fun. To live. You’re so important, Kim Hyojong. I want to do everything with you. You’ve gotta stick around, alright?”

 

Sniffling, Hyojong nodded again. “It’s hard, though. Life really sucks when you’re sad all the time. I hate it, Hwitaek. I hate life.”

 

Thinking back on all the struggles he himself had faced, Hwitaek stroked Hyojong’s soft, nut brown hair. “I know it is, babe. Life is so, so hard. But look how good you’re doing. You’re only nineteen, and you’ve already done such important things. The music you put out there online? It’s fantastic, Dawnie. Do you know that?”

 

Hyojong shrugged. “It’s not that good, Hwi. I’m not that good. It’s not gonna matter in the long run. Nothing I do will. I’m worthless, Hwi.”

 

Hwi pushed his shoulder in disbelief. “Not that good? It’s wonderful, baby. You’re wonderful. Have you seen the comments you get? From people all over the world! People say your music touched them. People from different countries ask if they can translate your lyrics to different languages so a larger audience can understand. You’re making a difference, Kim Hyojong. You’re positively impacting so many lives. At nineteen!”

 

Hyojong sighed quietly. “Our friends, Hwi. Our friends think I don’t worry. People think I don’t have a care in the world. I seem so relaxed on the exterior. But I’m hurting inside. It hurts so bad. I worry about everything. Every day, my mind is on fire. I can’t stop thinking about what’s gonna happen if you leave me and if my music continues to fail and if I lose everything...” Hyojong closed his eyes tight as the tears began to fall again.

 

Hwi held Hyojong close, foreheads pressed together. He, too, closed his eyes, and the two of them sat there in melancholy silence for a moment. The only sound was the small gasps of Hyojong’s crying, and Hwi rubbed gentle circles into his boyfriend’s back to comfort him.

 

Hyojong mumbled a hushed statement, and Hwi’s eyes opened. “What was that, honey?” he purred.

 

“Will you...s-sing to me? To calm me d-down?” Hyo asked hopefully.

 

Hwi’s breath stopped momentarily. With the asking of this question, it had just been brought to his attention how much he had shunned singing after his parents forced him to pursue such a bland career. He had left his dream behind for someone else’s sake.

 

But if it’s what Hyojong wanted? Hwitaek would do it.

 

So he began to sing a song that he had written a long time ago. Before he had become jaded. Before he’d abandoned his passion. He wrote this right when he was falling in love with Hyojong, and the words felt even more relevant now.

 

“My hopeful heart is like a flower, blossomed in darkness…”

 

A small smile crept onto Hyojong’s face. It was small, and maybe partially forced, but it was a smile nonetheless. Hwitaek, despite his nerves, grinned too; he couldn’t help himself. That smile did things to him.

 

“I hope I can protect your smile, I hope you won’t let go of my hand…” Hwitaek tickled Hyojong at this moment, making the small smirk turn into a full blown smile. Hyo laughed out loud uncontrollably, wiggling in the confines of being held in his boyfriend’s arms. “Stop it!”

 

Hwi got up and went over to Hyojong’s piano, beckoning for him to come sit on the bench. He started to mess around with the chords, until he finally found the right key to end the song.

 

“I pray, I sing, you held me with the most beautiful smile...” He planted a soft kiss on the bridge of Hyojong’s nose, and finished the final lyric by looking into his pretty dark eyes. “You are…”

 

Hyojong pulled Hwi in for a long kiss. “God, I love you,” he whispered. “You make it all worth it.”

 

“I love you too,” Hwitaek responded wholeheartedly, pulling his baby into his arms again. “I really do. I always will. Life is hard, love. But we can do it. The ups and downs? We’re accustomed to them. They’re our normal.”

 

“They’re organic to us,” Hyojong whispered.

 

“That’s it. Organic.”


End file.
